


What Are We Doing?

by lickitysplit



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, First Time, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, maybe a tad bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23070379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lickitysplit/pseuds/lickitysplit
Summary: You've known Dante for a few months now, but it's been nothing but killing demons and flirting. But there was something different about this job, and now you're staring at one another in a hotel room. Dante X Reader oneshot.
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 198





	What Are We Doing?

Dante stares across the room at you, and you stare back. The light in the little hallway to the bathroom is on, putting him in silhouette so you can't see his face. The motel he pulled into isn't a dive, it's quite decent actually, you've slept in way shittier places in the past, but even the sight of the one bed in the room didn't make you pause the way his look does now.

It's the same way he stared at you earlier, across the broken cemetery where some demons had put up shop, buying and selling in souls and blood before the legendary devil hunter had rolled up on his bike and sent them packing. You were there, of course, your knack for putting up wards and your knowledge of the nasties that slither in the dark coming in handy on jobs like this. He takes care of the bad guys while you sprinkle some sage and eye of newt and make sure they can't come back. He's been taking you more often, not that you're not grateful for the money, but this is the first time he's looked at you like this and it makes your heart stop.

What changed? He hasn’t spoken since you left the site, job well done and heading back home, where you’d stop at the same bar and have a beer, three cheers for surviving another night. Depending on how gross you both ended up you might stay a bit, have a game of darts, laugh at the ones shooting glances because they don’t know better, don’t know what the world is really like. You might even have a shot or two, really loosen you both up, until the game turns dangerous and one of you has to go home before you both win, or lose.

Dante crosses the room, getting up close enough that you can smell the sweat and the dirt from the fight and the worn red leather, smooth like butter. He swallows thickly, and you watch the column of his throat in fascination, wishing you could taste it, take a bite. There are so many delectable parts of Dante Sparda you've wanted to take a bite out of over the months and months of jobs and beers and cautious flirtation, his throat just one of many.

"What are we doing here, doll?" he asks, his voice like sandpaper. 

You shake your head. _He's_ the one that drove, you want to point out, _he_ swung the bike into the motel and left you gaping as he climbed off and disappeared into the office. _He's_ the one that emerged with a key and returned without a word to grab his bag as you scrambled off and followed. He hadn't asked and you hadn't answered, but you thought you knew why and how and there was no question that you wanted to follow him through the door that had a four hanging crooked on the outside. Four, your lucky number.

He steps closer, the air crackling. It's electric and tastes sharp. He's probably spoiling for a fight, the devils you were sent to dispatch way too easy, just some chumps looking to make a quick buck. Nothing wrong with that, until Dante had swung his sword and took their heads, ending it so quickly you hadn't finished the sigil on the ground to keep any other baddies from the place. When you did finish, he was staring at you just like this, so intensely that for a moment you had thought he was hurt.

Dante doesn't get hurt though. _Come on, pizza boy,_ the old taunt sticks in your throat as his eyes go downward. You use the opportunity too, taking in the broad chest and thick arms, thick thighs, everything about him is so damn _big,_ he even stands a head taller. You've never once seen him with someone, never ever, even though he could have any man or woman on the planet with those dangerous good looks. Maybe he has, and you're the last?

"Gonna take a shower," Dante says, and turns to disappear into the washroom.

So weird, this whole situation is so strange. You flirt and joke and yeah you go home after the job and your celebratory drink and think about that rock hard body, but he's never been like this. The shower turns on and you try not to think about him naked and wet, using the time to grab some tissues and try to rub some of the mud from your boots and _not_ think of Dante.

But then he emerges in a towel. His chest is bare, the deep carve of his muscle damp from the shower, his hair wet and plastered against his face, and you nearly lose your mind as your eyes sweep over the hip bones and the smattering of chest hair you only imagine must be soft to the touch. You toss your jacket and make a beeline for the washroom, not wanting to hear him speak or see him change because you really _will_ lose it and throw yourself at him.

The air in the bathroom is surprisingly cool. Did he take a _cold_ shower? Well yours is hot, scalding hot, and under the safety of the spray your fingers find that part of you between your legs that will bring some relief. The sight of his body in that towel that barely covered his hips, his arms, his eyes intense on you—it only takes a minute before you are shaking with relief, your forearm pressed to the tile to keep you upright. You laugh shakily, glad that's taken care of, and use the rest of the soaps to wash your hair and body quickly.

Your bag is still in the other room, no big deal. Dante came out in a towel, so can you. You wrap it tight and step into the hallway, but immediately you spot him. He has shut off the hall light and turned on one dim lamp next to the bed, so he is still in a dark silhouette. Dante sits on the edge of the mattress, still wearing that fucking towel, only the front is tented and the electricity is back and crackling between you.

He stands and walks over to you slowly. Prowling. You flatten back against the wall as one of his hands flatten against either side of your head, and now you can only smell shampoo and toothpaste and heat. "What are we doing, babe?"

You shake your head. "What do you want?" you ask, knowing the answer.

His eyes drag over you. "Take off your towel."

You never could just do what you're told. "Yours first," you joke. 

Dante leans closer. "Take it off," he growls, and then covers your mouth with his.

You open for him immediately, groaning when you taste him. Months of wanting this make you forget his order and you reach up instinctively, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him against you. Dante makes a noise that has your toes curling into the carpet, and his hands slide up your sides until he does the job himself, easing back a bit to leave enough space to yank the towel away before pressing you against the wall. His body covers yours as the kiss grows aggressive, and you can add his tongue to that mental list you have of thick things you want to bite on his body. It dips in and out of your mouth, stroking yours leisurely, while his hands roam your curves.

He covers your breasts, squeezing gently, then dragging down your stomach. He massages your hips before reaching your thighs, and then he lifts you, his hands gripping your legs like it's nothing, pulling them around his waist. Of course it’s nothing, he’s Dante, and you’ve seen him swing that crazy sword of his like it’s nothing, you think he’ll even break a sweat lifting your body? Hell no. 

His cock is hard as it grinds against you, the friction making you wild from the scratch of the terry cloth that still covers it. Your body responds with a flush of arousal and you gasp against his kiss, thinking Dante is going to fuck you here against this wall, and you never wanted anything so goddamn badly.

Instead, he carries you to the bed, dropping you almost comically. You protest when your mouths disconnect, but it's worth it when his own towel drops and you see his erection. Your mouth actually waters a bit; it's thick and long and the dark gray hair that trails upwards has your core throbbing in anticipation. How is he going to _fit?_

Dante climbs on the bed, and you slide upwards, making him crawl after you. When your back hits the pillows he settles on his knees, and you watch him stroke himself as his other hand presses on your thigh. "You want this, right?" he asks, his voice tight.

"God yes," you answer, blushing when he laughs.

"Good." His hands push your legs open, and then he leans down, pressing his nose to your pelvis. You shake in anticipation, your clit throbbing as his lips ghost downwards. He looks up at you when they reach your hood, and you are so grateful for that lamp being on because the way his eyes focus on you as his tongue darts out to nudge against your clit has you almost coming apart right there.

Your little shiver of an orgasm means nothing now. Dante rolls his tongue in flat circles against your hood, the wet muscle slipping and sliding in waves of pleasure over your clit. You let go a moan, reaching down to touch him, his shoulders tight under your palms. His tongue doesn't stop, now stroking up and down your slit, flickering dangerously at your opening, making you melt as your thighs fall open and your body is nearly flooding with desire.

How is he so good at this? It's not fair, it's really not, his hands gripping your hips and his stubble scraping your labia, sending little shocks of pleasure with each pass of his tongue. You want to grab his hair and ride his face, grind into him good and hard and fuck his tongue until you come in a mess of moans, but there is more of the demon hunter to have, and your mouth is watering.

Instead of pulling him closer you push him back, following to cover his protests with your kiss. Now it's your turn to demand, your tongue rolling insistently around his as you taste your own arousal, the scent filling your nose. Dante holds you tightly against him until you try to do just as he did, lean over to take him in your mouth, but there isn't enough room here at the head of the bed.

So Dante pulls back, moving off the bed to readjust and climb back on. But you flip to your back and push yourself to the edge of the mattress, reaching out for him. Dante steps forward and his cock bobs into view above you, and you stretch up to wrap your lips around the shaft. First you simply slide your mouth up and down the underside, your tongue flat and wide as you move lengthwise along his sex, grinning when he groans. Then you tilt your head back and open your mouth, the head pushing on your tongue as you suck on him gently.

Dante curses and presses forward. His cock slides into your throat, filling you almost uncomfortably. But being at this angle makes him easier to swallow, the length sliding neatly into your upside-down throat. You choke a bit when he reaches the back of it, the tip pushing as you try to take more and fail. It's still not enough, his pubic hair just barely grazing your face, but he pulls back before going any deeper.

You grip the base and hold him steady as you start to work. You suck on the head before opening again, guiding him in, and Dante wastes no time. He starts fucking you slowly, carefully, and you close your eyes as you enjoy the salty taste and the deep moans that are your reward. You want to please him suddenly, wipe the memory of every girl who let him sink deep inside her body, so you form a tight seal as he pumps his hips and open your legs, giving him a full visual of your body.

The bed dips slightly as he plants his knee on the mattress and leans over you. The mass of his body is almost smothering, but at this angle you don't have to stretch your neck, and your moans join his as he pumps in and out. Then his tongue is on your sex once more, licking long stripes on your slit, and you nearly choke on his cock again when he thrusts deep inside your throat as his tongue enters your body.

You pull back, gasping, arching off the bed when his tongue pushes inside your tunnel. His cock jerks against your chin and you seek him out with your mouth, sucking him hard once he's back between your lips. Thankfully he goes back to the long licks that are more a tease than anything, each pass nudging your clit until your cunt is wet and flushed, pooling against your backside.

Dante uses his thumbs to gently open your folds, and when the tip of his tongue flicks your clit you cry out. His cock falls from your mouth again, damn it all, but his tongue is prodding you as his fingers rub up and down, spreading the moisture over your lips and down between your cheeks. You follow suit, reaching around to grab his ass, fingers digging into the muscle as you squeeze and pull them apart. You tilt your head up to flick your own tongue against the sac that hangs heavily between his legs, mimicking his movements, and you lose yourself to the silky sensation of his fingers and the scent of his body, distinct and male. You grip him firmly by the rear, thinking to yourself that when this is over, you are going to roll him onto his stomach and sink your teeth into the hard muscle.

He pulls away, and you look up at him as he looks back at you, upside down. You slowly turn over to push up on hands and knees, your eyes connected as you wait for his word. How will Dante Sparda, legendary devil hunter, fuck you tonight? Will he lay back and let you do the work, let you ride the cock you've been dreaming of for weeks and weeks? Fold you in half almost as he throws your legs over his shoulders and fucks you hard and deep until you shatter? Maybe he'll bend you over, your most frequent fantasy, take you on every surface of this room, his hand smacking your ass and pulling your hair as you beg for more.

But no, he crawls onto the bed, pulling you against him in another kiss. You sigh into his mouth as he lays you back on the pillows. Dante is a romantic, of course he is, why wouldn't he be? He lost his parents and his brother twice, he told you those stories over pizzas and beers. You knew this about him, you know he wants a connection to something, anything, it's probably why there aren't chicks walking out in the morning as you walk into the office. He wants someone, and you're here, and when he covers your body with his you want him more than anything.

Your thighs wrap around him as the head of his cock nudges you. Dante kisses down your neck and to your breasts, sucking one rosy nipple, then the other, back and forth until the pleasure sharpens into pinpricks of delicious pain. "Dante…" you breathe, and he's there, kissing you slowly as he enters you even slower, your core nearly burning with the stretch and the sensation of being filled so completely.

He's not human, not one hundred percent, that was obvious enough the first time you watched his neck sew shut or a puncture wound close on its own. But what exactly you've never asked, and you wish now you had, because when his hips go flush against your thighs you wonder how you'll survive this. Your hands cradle his face as he slowly rocks into you, against you, in and out, the drag of his cock overwhelming. But he seems to be just as lost, moaning into your mouth, whispering how you are so tight, so hot, so perfect.

 _Just fuck me already,_ that's what you want to say. But there is something about the slow drag that has you intoxicated, so when the orgasm builds you barely notice until you are almost there. Your eyes open in alarm, and you cry out his name almost in warning before it hits, deep and devastating, more than you could have imagined. You reach up to claw for something, anything to keep you from losing it through the contractions of bliss, and when you find nothing he takes your hands, your fingers entwining tightly. Dante mouths at your neck as you ride the waves of pleasure, his hips snapping now hard and sharp as he chases his own, and it doesn't stop, just starts _again_ with his new movements, and one moan blends into another until you hear him curse and hiss and you are filled with thick, hot seed.

You are still trembling when he slowly releases his grip. His breath fans against your neck as he pants, and you smile to yourself a bit through the haze to know he was just as undone. "Dante," you whisper, and he leans over you, eyes bright and cheeks flushed as you push his hair back from his eyes.

"You wanted that, right?" he asks again, and it's so ludicrous you laugh as you nod.

"I want more," you murmur, remembering his backside under your fingers, and as he carefully pulls out you push him back, climbing over him this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a kudos and/or a comment if you liked it! This is my first DMC reader insert, so if you liked it I'll do more!


End file.
